


Every Word I Say is Kindling (But The Smoke Clears When You're Around)

by Writing_will_be_my_death



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesia, Comfort, Eye Trauma, Good Cows, Hurt/Comfort, It's not explicit though, M/M, Permanent Amnesia, Self-Mutilation, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Trauma, averted apocalypse, blindness by injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_will_be_my_death/pseuds/Writing_will_be_my_death
Summary: (Won't you stay with me, my darlingWhen my walls start burning down?)The unknowing left Jon stirring in the nightmares of others, watching their torment and suffering and making everything worse. He wanted to wake up, to go back to Martin, Tim, Basira, even Daisy.But he didn’t know how to. Until a voice told him to chooseThough, to be honest, he doesn’t remember actually making the choice to stay a monster and live rather than be human and die. The only injury the doctors will talk about is his missing eyes, and why are all the doctors Scottish?At least Martin is here.
Relationships: Also Martin Blackwood/Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86
Collections: TMA Big Bang 2020





	Every Word I Say is Kindling (But The Smoke Clears When You're Around)

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for TMABB! It was supposed to be a one-shot but school got super busy RIP. Anyway, check out the blog for additional art that will be featured in future chapters and for other fics and art! Thank you so much to everyone who helped me with this!
> 
> tmabb2020 blog: https://tmabigbang.tumblr.com/

Jon does not know where he is.

He is in a house filled with ants. They come from everywhere, never stopping, without a true source. The exterminator tries to light his lighter, he knows it will work, knows it will kill them, kill them all. He doesn’t know the lighter is empty. The ants swarm him, covering his entire body and he stares at the man who stares at him and tells the watcher what the exterminator hopes will be one last “Fuck you”. It is never the last.

He is at a lonely cemetery, filled with unlabelled headstones. A woman runs through them, screaming the name of a man she thinks she’s supposed to know. She falls into one of the graves and knows she will not be remembered. She calls out the name again, screams it, puts all the force of her being into it. The man who watches her die again makes her feel no less alone.

He is watching a woman type and type and type. She types until her fingers bleed and still she has not typed enough, nor has she typed fast enough. She knows there is a man watching her. She tries to pay him no mind but she knows he is watching her and judging her, she is not typing fast enough, it will never be enough. It has never been enough.

He is... he is listening to a new story. He has not heard a new story in a while. He watches this man who sees the soon-to-be-dead cause the death of an entire ship crew. The man who sees the soon-to-be-dead does not seem to mind the watcher’s gaze.

Oliver Banks turns to face Jon with vacant eyes.

“I made a choice,” He says. “We all made choices. Now you have to-”

And he’s gone.

Jon knows what he must do if he wants to live. If he wants to see Martin again, or Tim, or Basira, or Melanie, or even Daisy. Maybe he’ll even get to see Georgie again. He’s just not sure if the cost is worth it. If he dies, all these people will be free, they will never have to fear him again-

And then everything goes black.

He is in an uncomfortable bed. There is a tube going up through his nose, something poked into the inside of his left elbow. There’s an incessant beeping, and there’s something pressed over his eyes and what feels like something inside his eyes, too.

Most importantly, he can’t See. It was never very strong, but he could See and Know little things before. Shouldn’t giving himself fully to the Eye let him See and Know more? Maybe that’s what’s causing the pressure in his eyes. He moves his hand to tear off whatever is blocking his eyes, covering them, stopping him from Seeing and Knowing-

“Hey! Don’t do that,” A voice with a thick Scottish accent shouts at him. “We’re glad you’re awake, but those bandages are soaking up all the discharge your eyes have been spewing out.”

“... What?” Jon rasps out.

“How are you feeling?” The question sounds… rehearsed.

“... I… I don’t… my eyes, they… it feels wrong…”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have any, really-”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jon asks. He tries to lace in the compulsion, but it doesn’t come.

The person sighs and answers anyway. “When you were brought in, your eyes were gone. No one knows where they went. You didn’t have any inflation, oddly enough, so we put in your temporary prosthetics. Can’t have your eye sockets collapsing, now can we?”

… That can’t be the only injury he got from the Unknowing explosion. That doesn’t even make any sense.

“... What happened, exactly? How did I lose my eyes?” Jon almost hisses out the last part, because seriously, eyes don’t just vanish, he needs those-

“Let’s start with what you remember, so I don’t explain to you anything you already know.” 

Jon takes in a sharp breath. He doesn’t know what the others have said, should he say that they broke into The House of Wax? It would be less than ideal to get arrested at this point. “Some friends and I were, ah, curious, I suppose? About the, uh, The House of Wax? In Great Yarmouth-”

The person interrupts him. “I don't need your life story, just what happened after your friend left for a walk.”

“...What?”

They sigh, again. “Your friend said that you were fine before he left for his walk, and when he came back you were bleeding from your eyes and passed out on the floor. I just need to know if you remember what happened after he left. Did someone come in and do this to you? Or did you do it to yourself?”

What kind of story are the others going with? “I-I’m sorry, I can’t seem to recall anything after he left.”

“Alright then, I’ll get Dr. Coineagan to look you over before we let you go home with your friend.”

“Is he here?” Jon calls out quickly. This friend- it has to be Martin. “My- my friend, is he here now? Can I talk to him?”

“... It’s seven in the morning, he’s probably asleep. I’m going to call him in an hour.”

Jon hears the door open and close, and knows he is alone again. He doesn’t know, actually. There could be someone silently sitting next to him, watching him, and Jon would never know. He might not even be in a hospital- maybe the plan failed and Nikola has kidnapped him again. Maybe they’ve all been kidnapped.

“Good morning Mr. Sims,” Says a stern voice, “I’m Dr. Coineagan. How are you feeling?”

“Aside from the strange pressure in my eyes? Fine, I suppose,” And he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be fine, he knows the House of Wax exploded, there’s no way the others are as okay as he is.

“Well, let’s take a look at those eyes then,” Dr. Coineagan says, and removes the cloth from Jon’s eyes.

Jon still can’t see, and it makes sense.

But he’s already given into monsterhood, he should at least get sight out of it.

“Less discharge than last time, that’s good.”

Jon half-heartedly hums in response. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever else Dr. Coineagan says; even as she wipes the dried discharge off of his eyes, pulls out the tube from his nose, he does not care. Whatever is wrong with his eyes will be fixed, and he will See and Know everything-

“-Martin, the friend of yours that brought you here, should be here to pick you up soon. Is that alright?”

“I- Wh- Yes- Martin- Yes…” Jon takes a moment to collect himself. With the cloth gone, it’s even stranger that he can’t see. “Yes, that… that’s more than alright. Thank you.”

“Is there anything you would like to listen to while you wait?” Dr. Coineagan asks.

“Ah, no… I think I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“I’ll see you soon then,” Jon hears her say as she leaves the room.

The moment Dr. Coineagan leaves, Jon realizes his mistake. All he can hear is the beeping of his heart monitor, a taunting reminder that he lived, and he has no idea if Tim, Daisy, or Basira did. Technically, Melanie could be dead or worse as well.

At least he knows Martin is alive. He can finally tell Martin that he loves him. He’s heard the rumors, he knows how Martin feels about him. Jon just hopes that whatever the Eye did to him won’t scare him.

The heart monitor mocks his thoughts, reminding him that he’s alive and others might not be, if only he could See and Know that others were okay, could dive into Martin’s mind and Know what he thinks-

The door opens.

“Jon?” It’s Martin, his voice filled with hope and fear and… and a little emptiness.

“Martin,” Jon says, hoping his face shows how relieved to hear him. “You’re here.”

Jon hears Martin’s footsteps as he approaches Jon’s bed.

“Yeah,” Martin says, placing a soft hand on Jon’s cheek, “I’m here.”

“How… how are you doing?” Jon asks as he puts a hand over Martin’s, holding it, letting it ground him from whatever the Eye has done.

“Better, now that you’re awake.”

“A-and the others,” Jon says, preparing for the worst, “are… did-did they-”

“They’re okay,” Martin replies, and Jon can hear his smile, “They’re- we’re all okay. Everything worked out fine. I’ll explain more at the cottage.”

“The cottage? There’s a cottage.”

Martin’s hand stiffens. “Uh Yeah? Daisy’s cottage? The one we’re staying in?”

Why is this cover story so complicated? If he could See inside Martin’s head, he could Know exactly what it is and-

No. He won’t do that. He won’t invade Martin’s privacy like that.

“Look,” Martin starts, “It… it makes sense that this affected your memory. I’ve got some clothes for you, and I’m borrowing the truck from Mr. and Mrs. Blàr, so once you get dressed we can… get out of here and figure what’s going on.”

Jon tries not to hold onto Martin’s hand hen he moves it away.

~~~

The passenger seat of the truck is uncomfortable. The fabric is fraying off and the scent of diesel is almost unbearably strong, but Martin is here. He doesn’t know exactly what happened between Jon and the Eye… but he clearly knows something happened. He’s helping. Jon clutches his white-tipped cane, trying to ground himself with it. It helps, not as much as when Martin did, but it helps. 

“So,” Martin says softly, “what do you remember, exactly? About, before the hospital.”

“The explosion in the House of Wax, that’s the last thing-”

“The House of Wax?” Martin’s voice is cautious and… afraid. Jon made Martin afraid. “Jon, the House of Wax was over a year ago.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What uh… what happened? During that year, I mean.”

“Uh… a lot.” Martin’s voice is distant, like he could fade away at any moment. “A lot happened. It wasn’t good.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Martin.”

“It’s not your fault, Jon.”

“Still, I-I-I-I just…” Jon sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just… in general. That I’ve forgotten a whole year and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“There’s… you left two tapes for yourself. In case you forgot something. You didn’t plan for this outcome specifically. One was for if you forgot only your time as Archivist, and the other was for if you forgot everything. I don’t know which you’d prefer but… you can choose. I don’t know what’s on them, I haven’t listened to them, obviously, but they were labelled, so… yeah.”

The silence coats the awful sounds of the truck going across the uneven road. Jon gripes his cane tighter.

“...Thank you, Martin.”

Martin let out a small laugh. “It’s just… it’s the right thing to do. And we’re… we’re friends, right?”

“Of course we’re friends, Martin,” Jon says, “But I don’t just mean about this. I mean, for everything. For always being there for me.”

It feels like the temperature in the truck plummets.

“Yeah,” Martin’s voice is cold and distant and empty. Again. And Jon wishes he knew how to help.

“Are you alright, Martin?” Jon asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice does not change.

“You… you don’t sound fine,” Jon tries, hoping it will help.

“I said I’m fine,” Martin snaps, as the truck jerks to the side.

“... I’m sorry. I just… I want to help you.”

“I know, it’s just… it’s been a rough year, alright? And…” He stops to sigh. “The tapes will explain.”

“... Right.” 

The silence once again fills the truck, almost completely drowning out everything else. Jon doesn’t dare break it this time.

It’s a while before the truck stops and Martin turns off the engine.

“This is… the cottage,” Martin says, voice still distant as he opens his door and gets out of the truck.

Jon sits in his seat. He knows he is alone in the truck. He does not know where Martin is, specifically. He neither knows nor Knows what the cottage is like, and the latter makes him hold his cane tighter.

Jon jumps at a knock on the window of the truck.

“Are you coming?” Martin asks, the glass muffling his voice slightly.

“Yes, yes, sorry,” Jon replies as he gets out of the truck and unfolds his cane.

The ground here is not the smooth cement of the hospital parking lot, it’s a coarse and uneven gravel. Gravel is, of course, a generous term as Jon’s cane hits a rather large rock that feels more like a curb. And the several rocks similar to it, making the walk up to the cottage… very slow as he tries to not trip.

“Uh, how… how much further to the cottage?” Jon asks, as his cane hits another large rock.

“Not far, the stairs are like… twenty steps away? Are you alright?”

“Yes… yes it’s just… a lot of rocks that I keep losing my footing on.”

“Would it, uhm,” Martin starts, his voice warming up. “Would it help if you held onto my arm? For stability?”

“Yes, that might help,” Jon replies, as he tentatively reaches out his right hand for Martin’s left arm and grasps his bicep. “Thank you.”

The cane is a grounding force, in a very literal sense. It’s a way of knowing his surroundings without Knowing them. Martin is also grounding, but in a more… emotional sense. A more comforting sense. Jon isn’t doing this alone, he has Martin and well, he loves Martin. Hopefully he was able to confess his feelings for Martin during the past year, but there’s no way to be sure. Maybe Martin had rejected him, or maybe he hadn’t initially, but a relationship between them was simply… a bad idea. Maybe they tried a relationship, and Martin broke up with Jon and now Martin feels like he has to take care of Jon because of whatever is going on between him and the Eye.

“Watch the steps, there’s a gap between them and the ground,” Martin says, interrupting Jon’s thoughts.

Sure enough, Jon’s cane awkwardly hits the first step. Luckily there’s only the two. Martin stops rather suddenly and opens something, a gate, maybe? Jon never feels it, with his main guiding force being Martin rather than his cane. It’s probably a bad practice, but Jon can’t find it in him to care.

Martin stops again, this time while they’re on a rough carpet. A welcome mat, maybe?

“Well,” Martin says as it sounds like he opens the front door to the cottage. “This is it. The place we’re staying.”

Jon lets go of Martin and steps inside.


End file.
